


you gotta fight for your right (to party)

by bmblb



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: A guy trying to enter your home via a window is probably an actual serial murderer, Don't Try This At Home, Gen, He's lucky Jim is a disaster rather than a serial murderer, Non-Starfleet AU, Spock hasn't seen those centuries-old 'stranger danger' videos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-25 19:25:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18170417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bmblb/pseuds/bmblb
Summary: In which Spock opens his window for someone who is essentially a stranger and gets bagels and two very Human friends out of it.





	you gotta fight for your right (to party)

**Author's Note:**

> not quite sure what spawned this au, but i think i might write more (longer) stuff later on :~)

If there’s one thing Spock can’t stand, it’s having his meditation interrupted. Since this is something that can be inferred of all Vulcans, it doesn’t happen often on his home planet. Unfortunately, it seems like the Human inhabitants on Earth, a planet he’s lived on for almost six months now, have yet to understand this.

At first, Spock ignores the harsh banging, assuming it to be someone at the door; he has yet to invest in a soundproof meditation curtain since the procurement of his small apartment, and he now regrets that. Seconds later, after the banging persists, he realizes the proximity of the noise to be closer to the window of his apartment rather than the door across the room.

Pulling himself up from the mat, he straightens his meditation robe and walks over to the window. He pushes the curtain to the side and comes face to face with the source of the banging.

Spock has seen this man before, in the hallway of this floor accompanying the man that lives next door. He’s smiling nervously and lowering his fist from where it’s poised to knock again. “Hey,” the man says, noise muffled by the glass, “Mind opening up?”

Eyebrow raised in confusion and slight annoyance, Spock unlocks the window and pushes it open. The man thanks him profusely and moves to enter, but Spock stops him with a raised hand. “Why are you attempting to enter my home?”

The man’s smile turns almost apologetic. “Oh, sorry,” he says. “Bones is sleeping and isn’t buzzing me up and he locked his window to keep me from climbing in anymore.” He makes an aborted motion with his hand before putting it behind his back. “I’m Jim—Jim Kirk.”

Spock stares at where the man is hiding his hand. It’s clear that Jim was moving to greet him in a way traditional for Humans, the shaking of hands, before thinking better of it, most likely out of recognition for Spock’s obviously Vulcan heritage. It isn’t something most Humans take into consideration. He then remembers that he’s expected to respond. “I am Spock.”

Jim grins. “Nice to meet you, Spock. I‘m real sorry to bother you, but would you mind letting me in? It’s freezing out here.”

“I believe you might be exaggerating, Mr Kirk, as twenty five degrees Fahrenheit is not enough to affect a Human in such a way,” Spock replies, despite already knowing the Human propensity to hyperbolize what feels like every situation. He moves out of the way to let him climb through.

“Just Jim, please,” he says as he enters Spock’s living room. It’s then that Spock notices a small white bag in his other hand. Jim catches him staring and holds it up. “Bagels,” he explains.

Spock doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he just folds his hands behind his back. “Do you have a key?”

Jim’s smile finally falters. “What?”

“To his apartment,” Spock clarifies. “How are you planning on getting in?”

Jim rubs his neck and looks down at the bag of bagels in his hand. “Oh. Would it surprise you if I say I didn’t actually think that far ahead?”

“No,” Spock says.

“Then I guess I won’t say it.” Jim opens the bag of bagels and looks inside. “Well, these are gonna get cold, and I’ve got nowhere to be. You want some?”

And that is how Spock and Jim ended up leaning against the counter in the kitchen, discussing the recent chilly weather over lukewarm bagels and Spock’s own blend of Vulcan tea from home (“Is everything on Vulcan spicy?” Jim asks, nose scrunching up in a peculiar way as he takes a sip. Spock raises his eyebrow again, and Jim laughs.), time passing idly in the newfound company.

After a while of surprisingly engaging conversation, Jim stops mid-sentence and Spock looks up from where he’s washing his hands. He’s staring at the corner of the room, where Spock keeps the items pertaining to meditation. He’d left them on set up on the floor when he’d gone to the window. “Oh, were you meditating before I…?” Jim trailed off, suddenly looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, if only I’d known you were busy. I wouldn’t have disturbed.”

Spock tilts his head. Jim’s knowledge of Vulcan customs should continue to shock him, but in the time they have spent speaking he has already proven himself one to not underestimate. “It is of no matter,” Spock says, trying for sincere assurance—he has never attempted to put inflection into his voice, so he isn’t sure it comes across exactly how he intends. Jim nods as if he understands what Spock is trying to do, eyes gleaming.

“If you’re sure. Hey, can I ask you a question?”

The suddenness of the question catches Spock by surprise. “I suppose,” he says, voice undeniably wry, “seeing as if I had not wanted you asking me questions I would have stopped you the nine previous times you have done so without my confirmation.”

“Alright, wise guy,” Jim laughs out. “You’re funny. And before you can say you can’t make jokes,” he says pointedly, stopping Spock before he can begin to protest, “I don’t believe that at all. You’re hilarious.” He nods in the direction of Spock’s meditation mat, sobering. “Do Vulcans have to meditate? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to—I’m just curious.”

Spock looks over to his collection of things, left strewn out in a way that he’s never allowed before. The incense had burned out a while ago, covering the top of his meditation lamp with a light black dust, and the mat is creased where he’d risen. “It is how we center ourselves,” he answers. “Meditation allows for contemplation and emotional control. It is something Surak gave to us with his teachings.”

Jim nods thoughtfully, head tilted to one side. “I tried once,” he says. “It didn’t work for me. I’m no good at sitting still.”

“You do not seem the type,” Spock admits. “At a young age, I struggled to ascertain the patience necessary to achieve a successful meditative state. It took longer for me than it did my peers.”

Smiling at Spock’s admission, Jim opens his mouth to reply, but is interrupted by a loud bang against the living room wall, followed by muffled and extensive cursing. He immediately breaks into a grin.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Jim says. “Too bad he missed the bagels.”

Spock straightens. “Is he unwell?”

The question is met with a small chuckle. “He’s fine. Just hungover.” As if to clarify, Jim says, “His birthday was yesterday.”

“I see,” Spock says, because he does—his own mother makes a point to wish him well every year on the day marking his birth. His own birthday was mere weeks ago, and for the first time since early childhood his mother had sent him a dozen old paperbound books from their home library to celebrate, excused as a housewarming gift (he’d refused any presents for the majority of his life, as it wasn’t done on Vulcan normally; she’d seemingly jumped at the opportunity to make up for that lost time). They’ve since been carefully displayed on the shelf under his living room viewing screen.

“Have you met Bones yet?” Jim asks, motioning Spock to follow him as he walks to the door. He’s shrugging on the suede jacket he’d removed at some point during their conversation.

“I have not.” Spock remains at the entrance to his own apartment as Jim walks to the door beside his and knocks. The man who opens the door looks absolutely miserable.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” he seethes.

“Well past noon,” Jim says.

Arms crossing, he mumbles, “How’d you even get up here? Did someone buzz you—” Spock steps forward then, stopping him from speaking further.

“Leonard McCoy,” Jim says, “I’d like you to meet Spock. He’s your neighbor.”

Leonard scowls. “I _know_ he’s my neighbor.” The expression lessened somewhat, and his face transformed to one of begrudging politeness. “Nice to meet you, finally.”

Spock raises his hand in a Vulcan salute. “You as well. I apologize for any intrusion.”

Jim smiles at the configuration of his fingers most curiously before turning back to Leonard. “I got you bagels, but you slept too long and locked your windows, so I couldn’t get in. I split them with Spock, who was kind enough to open _his_ window for me, so all you’ve got now is my charming company.”

“Oh, great,” Leonard drawls. “Thanks for that.” He opens the door wider to let Jim in. To Jim, he says, “Don’t just stand there, then. I’ve got night shift at the hospital tonight and I need help cleaning up before then anyway,” and then, to Spock, “You coming, too?”

The Vulcan opens his mouth to respectfully decline before realizing that he has no reason to do so; meditation is not pertinent, and he finds that he is most curious to spend more time with Jim, and perhaps his neighbor, whom Jim is obviously close with. “If my presence is desired,” he says instead. “Though I must express an interest in changing my attire beforehand.”

Leonard looks down at Spock’s robes in muted surprise, as if he hadn’t noticed them until just now. “Knock yourself out. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Jim grins at him sunnily before following Leonard into the apartment, the door closing behind them. Spock stares at the closed door momentarily before returning to his own apartment to find clothes more suitable for visiting another person’s home. After changing, he puts up his meditation mat and meticulously cleans the burned out incense off his lamp.

“Lights off,” Spock says as he leaves the apartment, and the main room goes dark, the curtains blocking most of the sun’s rays from casting into the apartment. He closes the door and walks the few feet to Leonard’s apartment. Ringing the doorbell, he recounts the interesting events which led to him finally learning the identity of the two individuals he has seen so often since moving here, and wonders what the two must be doing inside.

“Come on in!” shouts Jim.

Spock opens the door to a post-celebration disaster of a living room; there are empty bottles that once contained Human alcoholic beverages and dirty dishes on every surface as well as the floor. Among the trash is Leonard starfished on the floor with an arm thrown over his eyes to block the light entering from the windows. Jim is sitting on the couch, his feet resting on Leonard’s sternum, smiling happily at Spock from where he’s standing at the entrance.

His stupefied disgust must be more apparent than intended because Jim bursts out laughing. “Mind the mess,” he says. “I’ll deal with it later.” Leonard grumbles and kicks his leg out uselessly from where he’s lying on the carpet. Spock steps over him and the trash to join Jim on the couch.

As Jim begins to talk about the events that caused such disarray in the apartment, Spock dimly thinks about how elated his mother will be when he tells her about these two very Human individuals next time they share a subspace video conference.


End file.
